


Love Shelter Me

by ghostfromtuonela



Series: GeraltWhumpWeek 2020 [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Brief talking about non-con, Established Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Needs a Hug, Geraltwhumpweek2020, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25021819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostfromtuonela/pseuds/ghostfromtuonela
Summary: Although rumors about the "Butcher of Blaviken" were slowly being replaced with rumors about the "White Wolf", there would always be those places that still held on to the former. After a hunt, Geralt and Jaskier find themselves in such a village.Part of GeraltWhumpWeek 2020: Day 1 - Ostracism
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: GeraltWhumpWeek 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811842
Comments: 8
Kudos: 139





	Love Shelter Me

It was close to midnight when Geralt finally returned to the alderman’s house, with the nightwraith’s head in his hand as proof that the deed was done. His body was covered in blood, and he could not wait to get out of his armor and crawl into a bed. Jaskier had by now gone to the local inn and bought them a room for now – Geralt hoped. There was always the chance that Jaskier had run into some vengeful whoreson seeking revenge on the bard for bedding his wife, girlfriend, sister, or daughter. It would not be the first time it happened.

  
“You’re back,” the alderman said when Geralt approached, “I was starting to think that I would not see you again.”

  
“Nightwraith’s don’t usually come out during the day,” Geralt said and threw the trophy in front of the alderman.

  
“I suppose that’s true. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be called “Nightwraiths.” In any case, it’s good that you dealt with it. We’ve got enough problems with the human wenches without having to deal with monster wenches.”

  
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get going and crawl under a blanket,” Geralt said.

  
“Right, I suppose even witchers need their rest,” the alderman said, “Here’s the money I promised you.”

  
Geralt counted the money, and to his surprise, the alderman had been decent enough to pay him according to what they agreed on. More often than not, people tried to cheat him and not pay accordingly. Although if he wasn’t being chased out of towns and villages as often since teaming up with Jaskier, money was still an issue. Many believed they could get away with it since Geralt would not want to ruin his newfound reputation by having another repeat of Blaviken.

  
They were right.

  
As he made his way to the local inn, he noticed that the streets were empty, save for a few drunkards lying around.

  
“Fucking freak,” one of them said as he passed them by. Geralt paid no mind to the man. He was too used to comments like that to bother with a witty response to a drunkard.

  
The inn was completely crowded with people when Geralt arrived. At the top of a table stood Jaskier, looking completely in his essence. He was singing and dancing to his heart’s content, throwing air kisses at the women, and winking at the men. The people around him were clapping and singing along with the music. Some were even dancing. Geralt loved watching Jaskier like that, carefree and lively. 

  
“How much do you want to bet that I can get that bard writhing and moaning beneath me after the show is over?”

  
Geralt looked over to where the voice was coming from and saw a man who looked to be in the fifties eying Jaskier as if he was a piece of meat. 

  
“Fat chance,” his friend said, “Pretty boys like that have a higher standard than you.”

  
“Who said anything about it being consensual?”

  
Geralt felt something snap inside of him. He was used to people eying Jaskier, undressing him with their eyes. Not that he could blame them. Geralt himself had stopped many times on the road just to have a go with the bard. As long as Jaskier knew whom he belonged to, Geralt could accept other people looking at the bard with desire. But whenever talks of coercion came up, Geralt saw red.

  
“If you so much as touch him,” he said with a low voice, “I’ll cut off all of your limbs.”

  
The man didn’t bat an eyelash, only stared at Geralt with an amused grin.

  
“You’ll do no such thing,” he said, “I know who you are, Butcher, and I’ve also heard through the great divines that you don’t want a repeat.”

  
“There are other ways for a man to disappear, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be by my hands,” Geralt said, doing his best to stay as calm as possible and not let the man get to him.

  
“Come on, Ilya, the freak is not worth it,” the man’s friend said.

  
The man gave Geralt one last smug look and left with his friend. Geralt tried to put the man behind him, and instead went over to the bar disk to order himself something to drink.

  
“Ale, please,” he said to the bartender, without taking his eyes away from Jaskier. He could still feel the man’s eyes at him, and when he sensed no hints of getting his drink, he turned around to look him straight into his eyes.

  
“Ale, please,” he said again, though more firmly.

  
“We don’t serve freaks here,” the man said.

  
Oh great, it was going to be one of these places. No matter how much people started to sing about the White Wolf instead of The Butcher of Blaviken, some backward areas were just too cut off from the rest of the world.

  
“Fine, I’ll just stay and listen to the music then.”

  
“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear,” the man said, “When I said that we don’t serve freaks here, I meant that they are not welcomed here. Did they take away your capacity to think they turned you into a monster?”

  
“Didn’t the bard tell you he was traveling with a Witcher?”

  
“Oh, he did. He just failed to mention that he was traveling with the Butcher of Blaviken.”

  
Geralt wanted to laugh if he knew it wouldn’t rile up the man any further. Unless there was some sort of thing for bards to travel with Witchers, how the hell did this man not put two-and-two together? Most innkeepers seemed to be able to do it.

  
The music suddenly stopped, and Jaskier stalked towards him with open arms.

  
“You’re back, thank Melitele,” he said, “So, how did it go. You must tell me everything about it in the morning. Gods know you look like you need some rest.”

  
“You didn’t tell us you were traveling with the Butcher of Blaviken, bard.”

  
“What?” Jaskier was taken aback by the mention of Geralt’s old nickname, the one he’s been working hard on to get rid of.

  
“You didn’t tell me your companion was the Butcher of Blaviken,” the bartender said again, “Since you already paid for the room, and brought in money tonight, I’ll let you stay for the night, bard. Your companion has to go, though.”

  
“Surely, you could extend your hospitality to the man who just saved your village from an obvious threat?”

  
“He’s going to save us yet again by getting the fuck out of here,” one of the villagers said.

  
The other villagers started to chime in, and quite soon, Geralt felt as if he had gone back in time before he met Jaskier.

  
“Butcher.”

  
“Freak.”

  
“Murderer.”

  
“Mutant.”

  
“Get the fuck out of here.”

  
A few comments from a drunkard out on the street is one thing, but when the entire village starts shouting every insult in the book at him, Geralt can’t help but feel a tad bit affected. After Blaviken, he tried to block it out and act as if it didn’t bother him. Truth be told, if not for Jaskier, Geralt would probably have been forced to withdraw to Kaer Morhen for a while, hoping that people would eventually forget, and he could continue to be just another faceless Witcher.

  
“That man just threatened to kill me,” someone shouted in the crowd, and Geralt immediately recognized it as Ilya’s voice, “Told me he would send someone else to kill me so that he wouldn’t be blamed for it.”

  
“It’s true,” his friend said, “Heard it with my own ears.”

  
“You threatened to hurt my friend,” Geralt said, “Did you expect me to stand idly by and do nothing?”

  
“I expect you to get as far away from my establishment as possible,” the innkeeper said, “As I said, the bard can stay.”

  
“Fuck that, if Geralt has to go, then I’ll go as well,” Jaskier said, “Keep your dirty money, I don’t want to touch anything you’ve touched. Oh, and here’s your money, good folk. Farewell.”

  
With that, Jaskier grabbed Geralt and dragged him towards the stables where they kept their horses. It was clear that neither Roach nor Pegasus were pleased about being woken up in the middle of the night.

  
“Sorry,” Jaskier told Pegasus, “But it’s clear we’re not welcomed here.”

  
Neither one said anything as they rode away from the village. Geralt could feel Jaskier’s eyes staring at him and that he wanted to say something, but didn’t know exactly how to formulate it. Geralt didn’t know whether he should be thankful or annoyed that Jaskier was actually silent for once. On the one hand, the silence allowed him to think and hear his thoughts, but Jaskier’s voice always had a certain soothing effect on him.

  
“Here looks like a good spot to set up camp,” Jaskier finally said once they were a few miles away from the village.

  
Geralt didn’t say anything, but jumped off Roach and started to collect wood while Jaskier took out their bedrolls. The silence was still lingering in the air, and after a while, Geralt could not take it.

  
“I know you want to say something, so just say it.”

  
“Okay. Geralt, please don’t listen to those people. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  
“Easy for you to say,” Geralt said, “You’re not the one who was cast out. You could have stayed there and have a roof over your head for the night.”

  
“Do you actually expect me to just accept that? That I would just leave you to sleep outside alone while I was sleeping in a bed? You’re my friend, Geralt, my best friend. I will stick by you, no matter what.”

  
Jaskier walked towards him, put his hands on Geralt’s shoulders, and looked him straight in the eyes.

  
“I love you, Geralt,” he said, “Even if the whole world turned against you, I would continue to stay by your side and sing about the White Wolf.”

  
Geralt pulled Jaskier into a tight hug, burying his face in the bard’s neck.

  
“I love you, Geralt, never forget about that.”

  
Jaskier continued to tell him “I love you,” and didn’t seem to bother that Geralt right now couldn’t say it back. Even when Geralt tightened his grip around him, he continued to say it.

  
“Geralt,” he said and broke free from the hug to look Geralt in the eyes, “I love you.”

  
“Fuck, Jaskier,” Geralt finally said, unable to control how small he sounded, “Don’t ever leave me.”

  
“I won’t,” Jaskier said, “I promise you that. You’ll always have me.”

  
And that, Geralt thought, was enough. As long as he had Jaskier by his side, Geralt would never need anyone else.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's not think about Jaskier being a mortal, and will probably die within the next fifty-sixty years, okay?
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: ghostfromtuonela.tumblr.com


End file.
